


Night Sounds

by Debi_C



Series: Night Camp [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Camping, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-22
Updated: 2003-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Debi_C/pseuds/Debi_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughts after dark.  Part of a series when the team is on an overnight bivouac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Sounds

The night has it's own sounds. Small insects and herbivores scuttle and shuffle through the dry underbrush in there nocturnal hunt for sustenance and refreshment. The slight breeze rustles the limbs of the trees, rattling their complaints to each other in the grove adjacent to the camp. The fire burns down into embers snapping softly while completing it's lifespan.

A soft tread eases onto the ground just within the circle of the fading firelight. It too maintains a tempo that speaks of confident reassurance of safety. The brush of the tall grass on the well-worn footwear. The rustle of the cotton uniform material as the body moves gracefully through the night's concealment. The creaks of the thick leather harness supporting of it's burdens. The soft slide of the living flesh as the human hands caresses the oiled metal of the weapon. All these create an aura of security.

Immediately to my right, through the heavy canvas wall, I can hear the soft sounds of my quiescent neighbor. The gentle cadence of the relaxed breathing, the silky sound of the nylon sleeping bag as it's occupant restlessly shifts position in his slumber. I can hear his heart beating; it's rhythmic pulse feeding the strong, young body and ancient spirit of my teammate.

One the left of me come similar sounds from another sleeper. Her presence is heralded by the deep breaths of calm sleep and a slight sweet scent from a perfume that clings to her even after a long days march. She too is a soldier, but her femininity is still obvious and attractive. 

Then, comes a shift in the sounds. A lighter, stealthier tread of a presence that is outside our arena of light. We are foreign to this, his place. The predator beast approaches, stops in it's sinuous journey, and watches our tableau, panting in the darkness. Our sentinel is alert to the creature's presence. He has halted in his rounds and stands poised to protect seeking out the danger in the night. Time is frozen; then the moment passes as the two alpha creatures recognize kindred spirits. They, each one, acknowledge the other's existence and purpose. Then, they part, without aggression, accepting their roles in the vignette. The intruder's sounds fade into the enveloping dark; the familiar footsteps of the guardian resume their pace.

Unexpectedly, a log cracks in the fire, sending the sound of sparks rising in the air then dissipating softly as they cool and return to the earth. Then the thin clink of the metal pot touching a metal cup, the soft gurgle of coffee as it is poured. A quiet grunt of comfort as his body settles on a log for a brief respite. the warm sound of a sip as the hot liquid succors it's drinker. A sigh of contentment as it succeeds in its purpose.

Then from next to me; a low moan of fear, of suffering comes through the darkness. A small sound of struggle enters into the night's peaceful place. The soft cry of loneliness summons him. The confident footsteps come, and a calming voice speaks quietly with great kindness and caring. The fear flees before that gentleness into the dark from whence it had come. The sound of a reassuring hand touching, giving support and reassurance against the night terrors with a quiet murmuring of voices. Then again, for awhile at least, the peace of the night envelops us in it's restful embrace. The wind continues to whisper it's secrets to the night air, the small delicate sounds return to their nocturnal rhythm as the cadence of the night goes on.

Then, the time comes, the rasping sound of the canvas being moved aside. The expected whisper comes. "Teal'c, you awake?"

"Yes, O'Neill. I am ready for my guard duty."


End file.
